


Scorching Heat

by Sparcina



Series: Gotham at Night [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: A pinch of voyeurism, Harvey has it bad, M/M, Pining, Quiet worship, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 01:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: He didn’t mean to stare.Okay, so what if he did? The man was strutting around the precinct with purpose, determination clear in every motion, wrapped up in that will to right all wrongs that fit him to a T…He couldn’t help it if he wanted to drop to his knees when the kid did something, again, incredibly selfless, like taking a bullet for him and saying ‘you would have done the same for me’. Yes, he would have saved Jim’s life, or died trying, because he was obsessed, but Jim wasn't concealing his own nefarious purposes, he was just... Jim. The only source of light in the darkness shrouding Gotham, a beacon of purity that kept him awake at night, considering his own sins at the bottom of a bottle.





	Scorching Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Still on a roll.

He didn’t mean to stare.

Okay, so what if he did? The man was strutting around the precinct with purpose, determination clear in every motion, wrapped up in that will to right all wrongs that fit him to a T…

… and got to him like nothing else. So yeah, he stared all right. Drank in all the rigid lines of this fine body he sometimes had all to himself, all on display in the chair facing his own.

At first, he’d damned the Captain for pairing him with a kid that knew jack shit of Gotham’s rules, of what a man had to do to stay alive and sane, but Jim fucking Gordon got to him in the end.

It didn’t happen overnight. The self-righteous bastard took root under his skin, grew under it so very discreetly, a rich poison that didn’t kill, only tormented, and it itched, hot and impossible to ignore. _Jim _was impossible to ignore. He was the most charismatic son of a bitch around, in this precinct that was always stormed by crazy loonies whom he couldn’t even shoot because _people have right _and _don’t get ahead of yourself, Harvey_.

He wanted to deny Jim so many times, but instead, he denied himself.

And still damned the Captain, but for entirely new reasons nowadays.

*

He couldn’t help it if he wanted to drop to his knees when the kid did something, _again_, incredibly selfless, like taking a bullet for him and saying ‘you would have done the same for me’. Yes, he would have saved Jim’s life, or died trying, because he was _obsessed_, but Jim wasn't concealing his own nefarious purposes, he was just... Jim. The only source of light in the darkness shrouding Gotham, a beacon of purity that kept him awake at night, considering his own sins at the bottom of a bottle.

Would Jim let him, he wondered? Would he allow his partner to suck him off, eat him out until that pink hole of his was all wet and shiny, until he could thumb at it and press both tongue and fingers in to massage that sweet bundle of nerves? Surely he would; Harvey knew he could give a guy a good time if he was into it, and he was into Jim like no one else in this wretched city. He would take his time, even if his joins ached and his knees protested, would mouth at Jim through his form-fitting pants, and then drag the zipper down with his teeth, swirl his tongue around the head and then wrap his lips around it, sucking, moaning, bobbing his head up and down like a pro until the taste of Jim, bitter crumbling innocence and sizzling worthiness, spilled on his tongue and drown the taste of whisky.

Often (too often), he fantasized about the feel of Jim’s pert little ass in his hands. He’d seen it in the shower (twice). Wasn’t meant to. Meant to, though. When they were in a hurry and really needed to clean up in the middle of a case, they would take a quick shower at the precinct. Stalls were individual, obviously (unfortunately), but Jim never tied his towel quite right; it teased the edge of his ass, showed the first hint of his crack, and really, how was Harvey supposed to look away when Jim just yanked it away and reached for his boxer shorts without a care in the world, exposing an ass that begged to be feasted on?

Jim might punch him, if Harvey was too forward about his intentions. Or he might let him indulge in one or two, before retreating within himself like he was so keen to do when emotions ran too high.

So Harvey hesitated. He wasn’t that kind of person, but Jim had both confirmed the value of his own recklessness and taught him a bit of caution. A paradox in himself; that was Jim Gordon all right.

*

There were days when it was Jim doing all the work.

The kid had a mouth on him, that Harvey ached to shut him up with a kiss, rough and full of tongue. And when frustration hit its peak (and there was no pretending otherwise, _that _happened increasingly frequently), he thought about how the kid would look on his knees, sucking on his partner’s cock like the good boy that he was.

Before Jim popped into his life, Harvey never had to squeeze the base of his cock to keep his base instincts at bay. Truth be told, there were a great many things that had changed when Jim walked into the precinct for the first time.

Jim was a hero, the only one around here, and Harvey yearned to drag him under his desk and feed him his cock. He wanted to hear him choke on it, wanted to watch his gorgeous baby blue eyes water as he tried to take more and more of it, to _please _him. Or perhaps he would fight, because Jim had always been the rebellious type, but Harvey would never force him… well, not in real life, anyway. When he jerked off in his poor excuse of a bed (or in a stall of the precinct, even in his patrol car, but for fuck’s sake, they were always doing overtime), there was no end to what he was willing to do to Jim, or let Jim do to him. His obsession ran free, wave after wave of heady sex that could be as sweet or distorted as his mood set it.

He had way too much time on his hands, if he could think about Jim so much.

Or perhaps he just wasn’t focusing on the important bits.

_Or,_ there was only one Jim, and just so many hours before he made a mistake and ended up in a ditch.

He wondered if Jim would mourn him. Would he attend his funerals, say something completely appropriate that would send all the ladies in a sobbing frenzy? Would he kneel on the freshly turned soil in front of his grave and talk to him as if death was not cut from life, but rather a one-way door through which intents and whispers could travel freely?

Had he always made so little sense, even to himself?

Fuck Jim Gordon.

(_Fuck _Jim Gordon).

*

“Hey, Harvey.”

Harvey swirled in his chair and propped his boots on his desk. Jim’s eyes found his, held them. Harvey cleared his throat, an automatic smile jumping to his lips. Thanks Fish for all those games of poker back then. “What’s up, partner? Did you arrest that perp like you wanted?”

“Nah, his alibi checked out.”

“You must be awfully disappointed,” Harvey said, wishing he could erase the weary creases lining Jim’s eyes. Wishing for oh so many things he didn’t quite dare to ask for. Not yet anyway. “Wanna go and get smashed with me, pal?”

That smirk he liked so much (the one he liked to think had a bit of himself in it) flashed on Jim’s face. “Sure, partner. Show me the way?”

Harvey licked his lips. And then it hit him, and his heart skipped a bit: Jim’s eyes were _following _that motion.

So, the clever detective that he was, he did some detecting: licked his lips again, slower, with more intent.

Jim’s eyes never strayed from his mouth. Inwardly, Harvey grinned. The itch that always bothered him around Jim went down a notch, as if to let enough place for hope to settle in his constricted chest.

He should quit smoking.

He should stuff his face full of Jim, tonight.

The grin worked its way outwards, lifted up the corner of his lips in a lopsided smile. “Oh, I’ll show you the way all right.”


End file.
